The illness of murder
by AngelPik
Summary: When a man is found to have died of a strange illness, Sherlock's claim that it is murder is doubted. Though he claims that he can prove his theory by examining the body, there is just one minor problem...the body has just been sent to America for a post-mortem investigation.
1. Chapter 1

"For the last time Sherlock, it isn't murder."

"Of course it is," Sherlock countered, frowning slightly, "It has to be."

Lestrade sighed heavily; _this_ is what you get for involving Sherlock in a case_ before_ knowing all the details. _Of course_ it would turn out that there was a perfectly logical and obvious solution. And _of course_ Sherlock would dispute it instantly.

"It's just an unfortunate death of some poor sod who got sick," Lestrade tried again, "The body's been examined; there were no signs of murder, but plenty of signs of illness."

Sherlock glared at him, "_They've_ examined the body. _I've _seen his house. I've actually been _investigating_, which is what your lot should have done when they first found it. Not that their investigations would have uncovered anything of actual importance. Give me five minutes with the body and I'll prove it."

"Can't do that," Lestrade said simply.

"What? Why...," Sherlock began to ask before noticing the look on Lestrade's face. _Eyebrows not raised and mouth not set – no major facial changes to affirm authority. Therefore not forbidding me to see the body, just stating a fact._ "What's happened to it?" he asked.

"We don't have it anymore. There was something odd about the illness he died from, so it's been sent to America for a post-mortem investigation," Lestrade explained.

"Why America? We have _me_ here._ I_ could have performed the post-mortem," Sherlock said, irritated.

" Apparently that's where the best medical diagnostics team is," replied Lestrade, "And you're not a doctor, you're a consulting detective."

"Are you implying that my intelligence is limited to only one field?"

"_No_, I'm..." Lestrade stopped himself from arguing; it wasn't worth it, "Look, the important thing is that we don't have the body anymore, and therefore you can't view it. Case closed."

"Having a case closed is not the same as having it solved. Get me clearance," Sherlock demanded.

"You what?"

"Get me clearance to see the body. Where it is doesn't matter so long as they haven't tampered with it."

"I don't know if I can..."

"Yes you do."

Lestrade hesitated. He knew he could get Sherlock clearance to go to America and see the body for himself, but he wasn't sure if he should.

"I'll only be gone for a few days, I'm sure you can deal with crime without me for that length of time."

A few days! A few days without Sherlock there to undermine his every decision and make his police force look like idiots!

"Fine, I'll get you clearance," Lestrade decided, "But don't mess anything up. Don't do anything to the body without explicit permission from whoever's in charge of it."

"Why would I do that?" asked Sherlock with a small smile, "Unless it was absolutely necessary, of course."

"Sherlock..."

"And get John clearance too."

"What? Oh, fine," Lestrade said, giving up on trying to reason with him, "Anything else?"

"Yes. Tell me where it is I need to go, exactly."


	2. Chapter 2

"John?" Sherlock, who up until then had been lying on the couch looking bored, inquired of his companion as he suddenly sat up.

"Mmm?" came the vague reply from behind the laptop screen.

"We're leaving for America this afternoon. Have you packed yet?"

"Mmm."

"Oh good. The plane leaves in two hours. Should grab a cab soon," Sherlock added as he stood and picked up his violin, intending to make full use of what little time he had to play it before they would have to leave. He had barely arranged the instrument into a playable position when John suddenly looked up from his blogging, his face portraying a mixture of confusion and worry.

"Wait, _what_?" he exclaimed, " Plane? Cab?_ Plane_? Sherlock, what's going on?"

"I did tell you we're catching a plane to America today," Sherlock replied calmly without looking up from his violin.

"No. No Sherlock, you didn't." Hearing the irritation that was creeping into his voice, Sherlock raised his eyes to meet John's.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion

"Yes, quite. I would certainly remember something like that."

"But I told you half an hour ago," Sherlock stated, now frowning slightly.

"When you arrived back?" John asked.

"Yes."

"I wasn't_ here_ Sherlock."

"Oh. Weren't you?" Sherlock asked, and John sighed at the polite disinterest that was clear in Sherlock's voice.

"No, I wasn't."

"Well then, best get ready. The plane leaves in two hours." And with that, Sherlock turned away from his companion to stare out the window as he began to play his violin.

Less than thirty minutes later, the duo found themselves seated on the next flight to America. John was looking out the window with mild interest as Sherlock stared wordlessly ahead. After awhile, John turned to his companion.

"So, America...why America?" he asked, more to break the silence than anything. Sherlock turned to John and replied in a slightly hushed voice, so that the other passengers couldn't hear.

"Do you recall the body that was found three days ago? It was in a garden shed and I was called in to look at it."

"_A Deduction of Illness_?" John asked.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock sounded almost offended by the title.

"The name of the case; _A Deduction of Illness_," John explained patiently.

"You put it on your blog? I told you not to mention the unsolved ones!" Sherlock exclaimed reproachfully, turning to look away from John in childish petulance.

"It_ was_ solved," John argued, no longer sounding patient.

"No it isn't!" Sherlock whipped his head back to face John, "Why do you think we're travelling to America? The only possible explanation for the case is murder, how _else_ are we going to prove it?"

"How is going to America going to help you prove your point?" asked John.

"Obviously, because that's where the body is."

"_Why_ is the body in America? And what do you mean 'obviously'?"

"Oh _come on_, John. I just told you that the case _is_ why we're going to America. Of course that's where the body is. How could you _not_ come to that conclusion?" Sherlock stretched his hands out in front of him in exasperation and lowered his head into them briefly before looking back up at John, "And the body is there because, according to Lestrade, it's where 'the best medical diagnostics team is'."

John thought a moment before replying, knowing better than to react to Sherlock's condescension; "The 'best medical diagnostics team'?"

"I doubt it."

"Well, I guess we'll find out then," said John, turning once more to look out the window as below them Britain gave way to a huge and seemingly endless ocean, "When we get there."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I really don't know much about Human Biology and medical procedures and stuff like that, so I'm having to resort to research. I haven't seen House in quite awhile either, so if any of it seems a bit OOC, please let me know! **

**Disclaimer (because it wasn't included in Chapter 1 or Chapter 2): I don't own House or Sherlock or any of the characters.**

"Good morning team! Or should I say "conglomerate collective of people who honestly look as though they don't give a crap"? Lighten up; we have a case to solve!"

Dr Cameron lifted her head up from the desk and stared as her boss wearily, "House, it's 2:00AM and_ none_ of us want to be here. Just tell us why we're here and not at home sleeping."

"I just told you," replied Dr Gregory House as he limped over to his whiteboard, "We have a case to solve."

"At _2:00AM_?" asked Dr Chase, looking ready to throw a punch at House for dragging him out of bed that early.

"Yeah, at '_2:00AM'_. And if you'll all just shut up for a few minutes I'll tell you why."

"What can we do now that we can't do in a few hours?" inquired Dr Foreman, looking less angry than Chase but just as tired.

"A post-mortem."

"A _post-mortem_?" exclaimed Chase, standing up, "I'm going back to bed." He began to make his way towards the door but stopped with his hand on the handle as a small cylindrical object hit the wall less than an inch away from his head.

"You're not leaving," ordered House, pointing his cane at Chase accusingly.

Chase turned slowly, not taking his hand off the door handle, "I swear House; I will not be responsible for what I do to you if you throw another whiteboard marker at me."

In what should have been an entirely predictable response, House picked up a second marker and lobbed it towards Chase, who jumped back just before it landed where his feet had been.

"That's_ it_."

"Chase, sit down. House, quit being a pain and explain exactly why we're here," Foreman swiftly intervened before Chase could retaliate.

Chase glanced at Foreman before shooting a murderous glare at House as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

House stared at Foreman curiously; "Thankyou, Dr Foreman, for doing _my_ job. Chase wouldn't have left anyway; he values the money and close proximity to Cameron too much."

There was a brief moment of silence as Cameron and Chase glared at House.

"Are you saying you would've fired me if I'd walked out that door?" Chase asked eventually, deliberately not rising to House's taunt.

"I'm saying you wouldn't have _left_," as he replied, House began to write on the board with the last whiteboard marker, "Anyway, fun time's over. Let's get down to business." House turned to face his medical team and pointed at the word he'd written with his cane: _TIME_.

"2:00AM," called out Chase, earning him a warning look from Foreman and a glare from Cameron.

"What?" he asked his colleagues.

"Will you _shut up_?" hissed Cameron, "We don't want to be here either, but at least we're not being juvenile about it."

"Fine, whatever," Chase rolled his eyes like a moody teenager and Cameron turned away from him with a noise of disgust.

"As I was _saying_," began House as he turned back to the whiteboard and wrote something else, "_This_ is why we're here." He turned to reveal the words _+ POST-MORTEM_ written next to _TIME_.

"Well..." said Foreman.

"I'll give you a hint," House interrupted without giving Foreman a chance to finish speaking, and added an sign to the board.

"Well..." Foreman started again, "...it takes ..."

Wrong! Next," House exclaimed, shifting his gaze to Cameron.

Cameron frowned slightly, unsure of what House was trying to tell them.

"It gets less reliable the longer you leave it?" she eventually suggested.

"Bingo!" House exclaimed, sounding as though he was more irritated that it had taken his team that long to figure it out than triumphant that they finally had.

"So we're doing this post mortem now because otherwise it won't be reliable?" asked Chase, "How _old_ is this body?"

"It's just been flown in from Britain, where the guy lived until his death three days ago," House explained, "So this autopsy needs to be done pronto. Cameron and Foreman; I need you to come with me to begin the procedure. Chase; I need you to head down to the lobby and make me a latte."

"You can't be serious. I'm not making you..." Chase started to object, but stopped when the door suddenly opened and Dr Wilson walked in.

"You're late," House said accusingly.

"It's not my fault!" Wilson exclaimed, "They wouldn't leave until I let them in!"

"Who?" asked Cameron, confused, as two strangers walked through the door after Wilson. One of them was taller and wore a long coat with the collars turned up, whilst the shorter one wore more comfortable-looking attire.

"Hello," began the taller one, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I believe you have my body."


	4. Chapter 4

"And you're a..._what_ exactly?" asked House, brows drawn together sceptically, "A doctor? I doubt it. A policeman? I haven't done anything recently. A delusional relative? Sorry for your loss, now get out." He pointed towards the door with his cane.

Sherlock gave a small smile, evidently having deduced something he liked, "On which floor is the morgue located? I'll just head over there and do the post-mortem for you."

"Excuse me?" House narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, "Not that what goes on in this hospital is any of your concern, but what makes you think we haven't already performed it?"

"Your impatience," Sherlock replied, "If you'd already done it you wouldn't feel as threatened by our presence, as is evident by your desperation for us to leave. Also, your whiteboard," Sherlock gestured towards House's board, causing House to take a protective step towards it, "which you clearly use for note-taking related to diagnostics, is essentially blank, which suggests that you either haven't performed the post-mortem or don't have any ideas regarding the cause of death."

"Oh yeah? Well you're not a doctor, as is evident by your inability to gain access to the building without manipulating Wilson here," House glanced at Wilson before turning his gaze back to Sherlock, "Who is easy enough to manipulate even without a doctorate, so that doesn't give you any special credit."

"Hey..." Wilson began to protest but was drowned out as House started up again.

"Also, I'm in charge here so what I say goes. And I say leave, so go."

Sherlock's smile grew, "I have clearance."

House stuck out his hand, "Show me," he demanded.

Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of folded paper, which he placed in House's outstretched hand. House unfolded the paper and gave it a cursory glance before handing it back to Sherlock.

"That piece of paper means nothing."

"Excuse me..? Oh, I see. Because you're in charge here you think you can stop me from seeing the body," said Sherlock, quickly realizing what was going on.

"Nope," House replied, "You can _watch_ my team and I perform the post-mortem from the viewing room. But you're not touching it. This is my case now, _detective_, and I'll be the one solving it."

"I have permission to join your team during any and all diagnostics sessions regarding this case," Sherlock pointed out, "You _can't _stop me from solving this."

"Joining my team doesn't mean anything either; you'll be like a kid on 'bring your kid to work' day. Your responsibilities will be limited to; sit down, shut up, and be amazed."

"You're so easy to read, _doctor_," Sherlock retorted, "I can tell so much about you just by _looking_. Would you like me to tell you what I see? How about I start with the..."

"Sherlock!" John suddenly exclaimed, having grown sick of watching the argument build up between the two men, "Can you _not_ do this right now? I thought we were here to solve a case, not have egotism-fuelled arguments."

"House, you said it's important to perform the post-mortem as quickly as possible," said Foreman, grabbing the chance to stop House before he could get too fired up and do something they'd all regret.

"Yeah, well I also told Chase to bring me a latte," retorted House, turning to look at Chase reproachfully.

Chase glared at him, "As a qualified doctor and part of your team it's not part of my responsibilities to..."

"Just do it, Chase," ordered Foreman.

"But he's..." Chase tried to protest, but Foreman interrupted him.

"Get House his drink, and he might shut up," Foreman hissed to him quietly.

Wordlessly (but with a loud sigh of defeat) Chase got out of his chair and left the office.

"_Now_ we can go to the morgue," said House, giving Sherlock his least genuine smile.

John sighed, and across the room Wilson did the same. This case was going to be difficult, no matter how easy it may be to solve.


End file.
